Expiation and Regret
by quietandsneaky
Summary: John screws up on a hunt and Sam pays the price for it.
1. Pain and Consequence

**Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me. **

**A/N: So, at the moment, I have got a severe case of writer's block when it comes to Sittin' In a Tree. I am planning to finish it, I just don't know exactly how yet. Don't give up; it will be updated one day. Till then, I'm on this story. **

John had never thought it was possible for him to miss Sam's fighting. To miss Sam's smart aleck responses, his occasional abrasiveness, his constant questioning of John's orders. But to see Sam in the backseat of the car, staring out the window and trying to hide the fact that he was grinding his teeth in pain, John wanted to crawl under the seat and disappear forever.

As he drove towards Bobby's, John thought of the events over the last few days. They'd gone on a hunt for a supposed werewolf. It seemed so obvious to John. The hearts missing out of the victims. The testimony of a witness that said the 'mugger' picked up a dumpster and threw it at one of the victims to stop him running. The way that same witness swore that when he shot the mugger, the wound was healed almost instantly. John had been absolutely certain that it was a werewolf, and Dean was practically salivating to get the chance to 'waste that overgrown dog'.

But, as always, Sam had other ideas.

"I don't think it's a werewolf, Dad."

Sam had tried to explain. It was too easy, Sam claimed. The lore is based on different stories of werewolves. If one monster fits almost every aspect of a werewolf, Sam argued, it was probably _too_ easy.

"We should research this some more, Dad."

But John had been so certain that he was right, and that Sam was just trying to argue, that the only thing he'd permitted them to bring was silver bullets and a silver knife each. On any other hunt, he would have insisted they bring other weapons, just in case. In case it was something else, just like Sam was arguing it was. Of course, now that he thought about it, John should have been proud that Sam was developing a hunting instinct. That he was thinking about things on a deep level. But his damn pride didn't allow him to.

Then came the actual hunt. The werewolf was found easily. And John had been left with a gaping mouth when Dean shot it with a silver bullet…and the werewolf barely slowed down. It jumped after Dean, who was barely able to get away, then pounced on Sam. Despite seeing the silver bullet not slowing the thing down, John still emptied his gun into him. The distraction worked, and Dean was able to get away. But the pseudo werewolf didn't go after John. It simply grinned and turned to Sam. Sam started shouting an exorcism, one that John had never heard before. The werewolf jumped on Sam and scuffled with him. As John and Dean rushed to help him, they heard a sickening snap and a scream coming from Sam, but Sam continued to fight bravely. The werewolf stopped moving, and John pulled it off Sam as Dean tried to pull Sam to his feet.

The scream of pain that Sam let out set John's teeth on edge. There were no outward visible signs of an injury, but Dean was pulling up Sam's shirt to check for broken ribs.

"Not my ribs." Sam gritted out. "Leg."

John rolled up Sam's pant leg and that's when he saw it. Sam's leg was clearly broken. Bone was sticking out. His ankle was already swelling and turning black and blue. It seemed the werewolf, or whatever they had just fought, had landed directly on Sam's leg. John outweighed Sam by almost one hundred pounds of mostly muscle, and he had had trouble pulling the werewolf off him. It was a miracle, he thought, that the leg wasn't smashed completely.

Sam had allowed Dean to comfort him as he got treated at the hospital, allowed him to be there as the leg was set and the doctor explained that Sam had a long recovery ahead of him. John expected Sam to blame him, tell him what a lousy father he was, and that he never would've been hurt if John had just listened to him.

The worst part was, John knew that Sam was right.

But Sam didn't fight. He simply sat in the back and stared out the window. John hoped that most of the silence was due to the strong pain medication he'd been given. As John pulled the Impala into Bobby's yard, he decided to break the ice.

"Alright, boys. Inside and straight to bed. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Dean replied.

"Yes, sir."

"Sam, I'll help you inside." John said as he turned off the car.

"I've got it, sir." Sam said. It was the first sign of any kind of resistance from Sam.

John sighed. He was so tired he couldn't even bring himself to tell Sam to listen to him. "Sam, please. Let me or Dean help you inside. If you put too much pressure on that leg you might hurt it more."

"I'll let Dean do it."

"Sure, bud." Dean said, hoping to defuse the palpable tension in the car.

"Sam." John nearly faltered when Sam looked at him. The look there, one of pain and betrayal and exhaustion, was one John had seen before, but never to this degree. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"You know for what." John said.

"No, actually, I don't."

"Sam, I'm sorry you got hurt." John ground out. Maybe he should've let Sam continue his silence.

"Why did I get hurt, Dad?"

John threw up his hands. "Forget it. Go to bed."

"No. You want to talk about this, I want you to admit it." 

"Admit what?"

"It's your fault I got hurt. I got hurt because you made a mistake. Because you didn't listen to me."

_You don't think I know that_? John thought, but his stubbornness took over again. "Excuse me?"

"It's your fault, Dad. I can't walk for at least _two months_. I told you it wasn't a werewolf. I told you it was too easy. Why didn't you listen to me?"

"I know what the hell I'm doing, Sam."

"Yeah. I can tell. Have fun walking into Bobby's house while Dean has to help me." Sam said.

"Sam, please don't do this…"

"Don't do what? Blame you when you deserve it? Tell me something, Dad. If Dean or I had made a stupid mistake that got you hurt, would you ever let us hear the end of it?"

John was stuttering. Sam was right. If their positions had been reversed, and Sam had gone after a monster and not known how to kill it, he would run Sam through endless drills until he understood what he'd done wrong.

"What can I do, Sam?"

"Make me walk again." Sam said bitterly. "Heal my legs and my ankle so I can walk again." When John frowned, Sam said, "That's what I thought. And like you always tell me when I screw up, sorry isn't enough. Dean, come on. I'm exhausted." 

As Sam and Dean walked up to Bobby's, who met the two of them at the door, John's heart felt heavy. Sam was barely able to get there, even with Dean's help. John could see the pained look on his face. John wondered what Mary would think about his inability to take responsibility to Sam for what he'd done. John knew the problem was his own stubbornness. He was afraid that if he admitted to Sam it was his fault Sam had been hurt, he would lose Sam's respect permanently.

_Like you have it now_, John thought bitterly.

John pulled the key out of the ignition and could see Bobby glaring at him. _I'm sorry, Sam_, he thought again. Dragging his feet, he stepped out of the car and into the house, wondering how he would ever make this up to Sam. Or if he even could.


	2. Back to Basics

**A/N: There is a subtle spanking threat in this chapter, but not against who you might think.**

**Bobby and the boys come up with a rather unique way for John to show Sam he means business.**

The sun came in through Bobby's window. John's eyes opened and he sat up automatically before he even woke up completely. He checked the clock and groaned. It was seven in the morning. He wondered if the boys ever realized that he hated getting up early just as much as they did. He would give anything to be able to sleep past eight in the morning. But the habit was so ingrained in him that there were mornings he would get out of bed, wake them up, and get them moving before he even fully realized he was awake himself. John decided the second he had a conscious thought that he'd let both the boys sleep as long as they wanted. It was a miniscule way to patch things up, but at least it was something.

But John found Sam and Dean's beds both empty. He started to wonder why until he smelled bacon. Bobby had made breakfast. John smiled; as gruff and tough as Bobby pretended to be, John knew he truly cared about him and the boys. John made his way to the kitchen, expecting to find Sam and Dean at the table. But the table was empty, the plate of bacon had only two small pieces on it, and Bobby was washing dishes at the sink.

"No breakfast for me?"

"I figured you could rustle some up for yourself." Bobby said, throwing a plate far too roughly onto the towel next to the sink.

John sighed. So, Bobby was still pissed. Hopefully he was the only one. "Bobby, the boys should be helping you with the dishes."

"Dean cooked, so I cleaned up. Only fair." Bobby replied. He finally finished and wiped his hands.

"Where are the boys?"

"Dean took Sam's prescription to the drugstore. Sam went with him. I gave them some money to go see a movie and take the day off if Sam felt up to it."

"Is that a good idea? The doctor said Sam straining that leg could make his healing harder."

"Which is why I told him that if he went out with Dean he had to use the wheelchair in the garage." Bobby said.

John smiled. "He agreed to that?"

"It was that or stay in bed all day."

John nodded, impressed. "Good."

"Yeah. Good." Bobby turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now that they're gone, you can tell me what the hell you were thinking?"

"Bobby, please, I've already run through this with the boys…"

"The hell you have. You haven't even apologized to Sam."

"Yes, I did. He didn't take it, that's on him." John shot back, his already thin patience stretching to its limit. 

"Are you telling me he doesn't have a point?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You made a stupid, amateur mistake." Bobby said. He knew he was ruffling John's nerves, but he didn't care. The man needed them ruffled. "You made a stupid mistake because you wanted to prove to Sam that you knew more than he did. That you were the big boss in charge. Well, look where that got him."

"Bobby…"

"Do I _sound _like I'm done?" Bobby asked. Though his voice was calm, he intimidated John, despite being two inches shorter than him. "That's one of the first things I ever taught you. Don't ever go into a hunt without being one hundred and fifty percent sure of what you're dealing with."

"I know that."

"Then why didn't you listen to Sam when he told you that this being a werewolf was too easy?" Bobby asked. "You're always complaining that Sam's heart isn't in this, and that he needs to work harder at it. He tries, and not only do you shut him down, but he gets hurt so bad he can't walk on his own."

"Would everybody stop throwing that in my face please?" John asked, irritated and his voice dangerously close to yelling.

"As soon as Sammy can walk on his own, and you'll admit to him that it was your fault, we'll think about it."

John turned towards the voice that hadn't been there just a few seconds before. "Dean."

"Dad." Dean turned towards Bobby. "Can Sam and I talk to you in the living room?"

"You don't want to talk to me?" John couldn't help but feel slightly insulted at being brushed aside.

"No, sir. I don't. But trust me, we will in a minute."

Bobby followed Dean to the living room, and John stood in the kitchen seething. He saw the three of them huddled together, and he wanted nothing more than to separate them and tell the two boys to pack up. But he was determined not to make the situation worse by taking Sam away from familiar surroundings. Sam strived for normal, and after screwing up so badly, it was the bare minimum he could do to show Sam he meant it when he said he was sorry. Sam was nodding his head and showing Bobby something in a book. Bobby smiled and ruffled Sam's hair, an easy, affectionate gesture that made John jealous. He turned to grab a beer out of Bobby's fridge when he was called into the living room rather rudely.

"Get your ass in here."

John wanted to snap back at Bobby, but he didn't. He held his tongue. He was rather proud of himself for how patient he was being at the moment. Bobby stood against the desk, arms across his chest all over again, but this time he was grinning. Dean stood next to him, and Sam sat in the wheelchair Bobby had provided for him. He didn't seem angry anymore, but John knew that Sam's silence could be deceptive.

"Okay. What's going on?"

"The boys have decided that since you made a dumb rookie mistake, you should have to face the consequences of it as if you were a rookie. I agree." Bobby said.

"What?" John laughed. Surely this was a joke. "That's not happening."

"I told you this wouldn't work." Sam said.

"Sam, I get it. I should have listened to you. I'm sorry I didn't. But it was a stupid mistake that I'll never commit again."

"And would that work with me?" Sam asked. "Dad, there's no way you would ever just take an apology from me. What is it you like to say? 'Sorry's not enough?' Well, sorry's not enough. This isn't about just holding this over your head, even though I do think if I did this and you or Dean got hurt you'd hold it over mine. But you're supposed to be teaching me and Dean how to do this. If you won't hold yourself to the same standard you do us, why should we listen to you?"

"Like you listen to me now." John scoffed.

Sam shook his head. "Forget it." He grabbed the sides of the wheelchair and started to push himself to the kitchen.

"Sam, wait."

Sam stopped but didn't look back at John. It took a monumental effort, but John knew Sam, Dean, and Bobby were right. He'd acted in a stupid way, and he deserved to be treated like a stupid rookie. Sam had every right to hold him accountable, and not take his apology until he'd really made it clear that he understood what he'd done.

"What do you want me to do?"

"That's more like it." Bobby said. "Sam, you go first."

"You're gonna research and tell me what it was we were dealing with."

"You said the exorcism that killed it. You already know what it was." John knew he shouldn't argue with Sam, but he couldn't help it.

"Yes, I do know what it was. Because I stayed up the night before and I did the research anyway. What I said wasn't an exorcism." Sam said. "But that's the only clue I'll give you."

"Okay. Agreed. I'll do the research." John said.

"That ain't even close to it." Bobby said. "You're not just gonna do that research. You're gonna write a report. Like you make the boys do. Tell us what it is, the strengths and weaknesses, the best way to kill it, everything. Sam, Dean, and I are checking over it. We don't like it, you do it again."

"Okay."

"You're also training. Every day. Minimum of three hours. With me, and, if he wants, Dean. You do what we say, when we say to do it. You don't do it the right away, or you slack off, you train longer."

"What is Dean gonna do?" John asked.

"Dean is taking some time off. So is Sam. Right now, the two of them and me are the senior hunters in this house. You have to earn the privilege of going out on hunts back." Bobby explained.

"So, I guess that means no hunts?" John asked.

"Until we fix this, you don't so much as salt and burn a ghost."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. After you finish that report, and do Dean's assignment for you, you're running the phones for three days."

"Dean's assignment?" John asked.

"Dean?" Bobby said, inviting Dean to speak.

"Yes, sir. You're writing Sam a letter."

"A letter?"

"A letter. Clearly telling him what you did wrong, why it was wrong, what you should have done differently, and how you honestly feel about him and what he contributes to the family." Dean said. "After you write it, give it to me. I'll read it, and if I don't like it, it gets rewritten."

_Damn it_, John thought. He was surprised it was Dean giving him this assignment and not Sam. But he knew exactly why Dean was making him write to Sam rather than explaining himself verbally. John's default response tended to be anger. All too often, when John was worried about one or both of the boys, it came out as anger. Sam would then get angry in response, and they'd end up in a loop of arguing that would only cause them both more frustration. If he was forced to write down how he felt about Sam rather than talk to him, he might actually be able to get through to him.

"Agreed. Anything else?" John asked, hoping that really was all. He wondered how he would keep up with everything he'd been given to do, and was seriously considering cutting back on his punishments for the boys when they got in trouble.

"Yeah. One more thing. You complain at any point this week, I handle this the way you do." Bobby went from crossing his arms to putting both hands on his waist and tapping his belt. "In fact, I wanted to add that to this batch of stuff you have to do, but Sam asked me not to. Said he wanted you to learn something from this, not be embarrassed by it. So, I suggest thanking Sam for his graciousness."

John nodded. He honestly hadn't expected Sam to escape a chance to see John punished the same way he might have punished Sam for the same dangerous infraction. The boy truly was gracious. "Thank you, Sam. I mean that."

"Sure, Dad." Sam said. "Just…just do this. Please?"

"I will, son. I will."

"Well, let's get started then. Better go grab your breakfast out of the microwave and eat it. I'll meet you out back for training in fifteen minutes." Bobby ordered.

"Breakfast? I thought…"

"Boys, enjoy your day." Bobby said, cutting him off.

John smiled, grabbing his plate of bacon and eggs out of the microwave. _Back to basics, I guess,_ he thought as he placed the plate in the sink and headed to the backyard.


	3. Winchester Boot Camp

John walked inside, every muscle in his body aching and burning. Bobby and Dean had taken him completely by surprise. There had been no break except for allowing John to take a couple of sips of water a few times during the training session. When he'd started to say something about them not cutting him any slack, Bobby's threat had made him stop. John bit his tongue, reminding himself that 'slack' wasn't in his vocabulary when dealing with Sam or Dean, so he couldn't ask for it himself. When John headed to the refrigerator to grab a beer, Bobby was right behind him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm grabbing a beer, is that okay?" John asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice level.

"Stow the attitude." Bobby said. "You're not getting any slack from me here."

John bit his cheek, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Can I please have a beer?"

"No. I don't want you drinking until you're done with what you have to do." Bobby said. "You'll start drinking and won't stop. You need to focus."

John finally lost his cool. "Damn it. I'm not a child!"

"Well, you're certainly acting like one." Bobby said coolly. "You can have a soda or a bottled water and something for lunch. That's it."

John sighed. "Fine."

Bobby left to go somewhere with the boys, and John made lunch as slowly as he could. He had absolutely no idea what it was that had gone after Sam. John tried to remember what Sam had said while fighting the creature. He knew Sam said that it wasn't an exorcism, which ruled out demon. Whatever it was had the strength of a werewolf and operated like one. But it was impervious to silver. He had absolutely no idea where to start.

John started to think about the letter to Sam. Sam had taken him by surprise when he'd killed the creature. He'd done it effortlessly, even through the pain of his mangled leg. John didn't know if he'd even be able to focus after an injury like that, much less be able to take down something that was easily three times his size. John pulled out a legal pad from Bobby's desk and wrote down his first points for Sam's letter.

_Strength of character._

_Intelligence._

_Brave._

John finished his sandwich quickly, then dug into the lore to try and find some answers. He was still there hours later when Bobby and the boys came back. He was so wrapped up in what he was doing that when Sam and Dean came back to the house, he only noticed them when Sam brought him a bowl.

"It's dinnertime, Dad." Sam said. "I brought this for you."

John looked down at the bowl and smiled. It was a bowl of chili. "Thanks, buddy."

"Sure, Dad." Sam said. "Why don't you come eat with us? Take a break?"

"You want me to?" John asked. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, sir." 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" John asked. It came out much angrier than he intended it to, something he only realized when Sam frowned.

"Forget it, Dad. Just do what you want."

"Sam, stop." John said. "I'm not angry. I just…don't get it. You're stuck in that chair because of me. Why aren't _you_ angry with _me_?"

"I was. But you're actually working to fix it. So I'm cutting you a break."

John instantly felt ashamed. Sam was so much more forgiving than he needed to be. John didn't deserve it. It was part of the reason he worried about Sam so much. He thought he was too tenderhearted, that it would get him killed one day when he trusted the wrong person. Now that he was on the other end of that trust, he was thinking twice about trying to change Sam.

"Thank you, Sam. I appreciate that. And I really am sorry for this."

"I know, Dad. I do." Sam said. "Come on. Let's get some dinner."

"So, what'd you guys do today?"

"I had my first physical therapy appointment." Sam said.

"How'd it go?"

Sam gave him a brief description, then told him what the therapist said. "Hey, Bobby, I know you said he had to stay here, but if Dad wants to go, can he come with me tomorrow?"

Bobby, who was watching the two of them closely, nodded. "If he wants to. Sure." 

"Of course I'll go, Sam." John said. "I'm about done. I'll get back to research now."

"Dad, Dean and I were gonna watch a movie. You want to watch with us?"

_No. I want to find out what son of a bitch hurt my boy, _John thought. But an invitation to just hang out with Sam was so rare that he didn't dare pass it up.

"Sure, buddy. Let's go." 


	4. Forgiveness

"You did good today, Sam."

"Really? It doesn't seem like I've been doing much except flexing my good leg." Sam said.

"That's all you need to be doing right now." The physical therapist, a young girl only in her late twenties, who seemed to John far too young for the job, walked over and picked up her clipboard to make some notes. "Until your broken leg heals more, you need to make sure your good leg doesn't go bad. Make sense?"

"Yeah. It does. Thanks, Patti." Sam said.

"You're welcome. Now, you know the drill. Answer a couple questions and you can have some cookies."

As Sam answered the questions, John watched Sam. He was surprised he hadn't heard Dean tease Sam about Sam's obvious crush on his therapist. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and every time she asked him a question, Sam would blush slightly before answering. Patti picked up a plate of cookies and held it out to Sam. After Sam took two, she held

"Mr. Winchester? Would you like one?"

"Sure. Thank you." John said. "And call me John."

"Alright, John." Patti said. "Sam doesn't have to come back for another week, but I'd like him to keep working on his exercises, okay? I gave them to his uncle and brother."

"We'll make sure." John promised.

"Alrighty. See you next week, Sam."

Sam grinned and waved sheepishly at Patti, who gave him a kiss on the cheek before she left. John saw every ounce of blood in Sam's face go towards his cheeks at that point. As Patti left, John didn't even realize that he was grinning until Sam scowled.

"Stop it, Dad."

"Stop what?"

"That's where Dean gets that stupid look from. Where he thinks he knows something he doesn't."

"What? Like you having a gigantic crush on your therapist?" John asked, and couldn't help but laugh when Sam blushed again and looked down, embarrassed.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get some lunch. Where do you want to go?"

Sam suggested a diner they'd all been to many times before while visiting Bobby. But with his newfound focus on Sam, John noticed that there was very little enthusiasm behind the choice. Rather than ask again, John just drove towards the center of town, towards a place that he knew Sam loved but had been relegated to birthdays because of the expense.

"Subway? You hate this place." Sam said. "Really, dad, the diner's fine…"

"Sam. Come on. You really did do good today; you deserve a reward. Let's go."

Sam smiled, choosing not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Yes, sir."

The conversation was easy, effortless, a very nice change of pace from normal. Though John got along well with Dean, they were too much alike. They could fall into comfortable silences, and it didn't bother either of them at all. Sam craved a listening ear. John relished a conversation that revolved around something other than hunting. Sam told him about what he and Dean had been doing since they arrived at Bobby's, what books he'd been reading, and what he was hoping to learn when he started ninth grade in the fall. When Sam was done with his meal, over an hour from the time that they'd arrived, John had to admit it was time to head back.

"You ready to go back to Bobby's?"

"I guess." Sam said.

"You guess? I though you liked staying here."

"I do. But this has been nice too." Sam answered.

John smiled. Sam actually _enjoying _being with him was a feeling he didn't think he'd ever get over. "I agree, son. It has been nice."

"When we go back, you'll have to go back to research."

"Yeah. You gave me that to do." John said.

"But I never thought you'd actually do it." Sam admitted. "I thought you'd get frustrated and give up."

John sighed. "To be honest, I did too. But Sam, I need you to get something. I know a lot of times it feels like I don't care about how you feel. And you were right. You got hurt because I didn't listen to you. And I owe it to you to put the work into this to fix it. So, I'm doing it because I _want _to, not just because I have to. Okay?"

Sam smiled. "Okay, dad. Are you doing Bobby's training because you want to?"

"No. Definitely not." John groaned. He'd almost forgotten he still had to train with Bobby. "The man is relentless."

Sam laughed heartily.

"What?"

"Bobby's relentless? And you're not?" Sam asked. 

Had Sam not been laughing, John might have mistaken what he said for the start of an argument. But it was clear Sam was only trying to rib him back for what had happened earlier. "I guess I deserve that."

"I'm just teasing you, Dad. You know that, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I know."

"Can we get a big cookie before we go, though? Split it?" Sam asked. As much as he'd been on a health food kick as of late, he had a weakness for chocolate chip cookies.

"As long as you don't tell Dean." John said. "And if you don't tell him, maybe I'll even get you your own." 

"Deal."

John bought two cookies, and after a few more minutes, they were heading back to Bobby's. As he helped Sam into the front passenger seat, John felt his heart twist when Sam groaned in pain. It was nearly time for him to take his medication again. When he got Sam back to the house, after answering endless questions from John and Dean about what they'd done that day, and before going out with Bobby, John added something else to the list of things to include in Sam's letter.

_Forgiving. _


	5. Heart to Heart

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. Life and laziness got in the way. But this is the last chapter! Yay! Sam and John have a talk about not just what happened to Sam, but everything else. **

**I mention a hose in Bobby's kitchen sink in the last part of this chapter. I know in some places this isn't a common thing, so just to clear up any potential confusion, I'm not talking about a full-sized garden hose. I'm talking about a little miniature hose that comes attached to some kitchen sinks. It's meant to make doing dishes a little easier. **

It had taken close to a week, but John had the answer now. He was sure of it. The creature that attacked Sam was called a Kylea. It was, to make a long, detailed description short, a demon possessed werewolf. It was incredibly rare, because for one to be created, it had to happen in a specific pattern. The werewolf had to have been a werewolf for a short time, with no full turns into a wolf under their belt. They also couldn't have turned any other humans yet. The demon took possession of the werewolf, and a match made in supernatural heaven took place. The newly formed Kylea took on all the strengths of the demon and the werewolf combined, with none of the weaknesses.

It took nearly another full day to figure out the way Sam had killed it. The exorcism John had thought Sam screamed during the attack hadn't been an exorcism, but rather a spell. A spell that stopped the heart and turned it into dust of everything around that wasn't human. The spell was a smart one, though. It required no special ingredients, but could only be used one time by one person. Meaning that, if Sam ever wanted to use it again, he couldn't. Trying to fight down the disappointment he'd felt in not having an amazing new supernatural weapon in his cache, John wrote up the report he was preparing to give to Bobby.

As he wrote, it occurred to John that what had taken him a week to find out had only taken Sam the better part of a night. The boy was studious when it came to research. His minute attention to detail sometimes annoyed his father, but had no doubt saved all their lives. Guilt suddenly slowed down his progress on his report. How often had he shown Sam any sort of appreciation for his dutiful attention to his family's safety? How often did Sam try to get him to listen and John just brushed him aside? John added another point to write about in Sam's letter.

_Conscientiousness._

He finished the report, and thought about bringing it to Bobby and Dean right away. He heard Sam laughing about something in the living room, and he wanted to go and find out what was so funny. But his duty to finish his assignment was pulling at him, and he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began his letter to Sam. He knew that just writing something along the lines of 'these are the things I've noticed this week and I'm sorry' wouldn't pass with Dean. So, he wrote and didn't stop until everything was out.

_Sam, _

_I can't say it enough. How sorry I am that you're hurt right now because I was too damn stubborn to listen to you. I will never forgive myself for this. _

_But I want to tell you some things that I've noticed about you this week. Noticed and admired about you. You are the smartest man I've ever met. You always amaze me with how smart you are. How your brain seems to soak up information and keep it there and retain it effortlessly. I know you work hard in school, and when I see you trying so hard it makes me proud of you. I know I don't ever say that, and I should, but please don't doubt that Sam. I am proud of you for your accomplishments in school. I wish we could stay in one place long enough for you to be able to really flourish in one school. If we didn't hunt, I would work as hard as I had to to send you to the best school I could find. I wish, more than anything else, that our lives could be that, son. _

_You are also one of the bravest men I've ever met. The way you stand up against me and my stubbornness, no matter how crazy it makes me at the time, makes me admire you too. I need a check against myself, Sam. Even though it may lead to more arguments in the future, please don't give that up. _

_I'm thankful that you're so forgiving, Sam. I'm so grateful that you forgave me for this already, and that you, in your words, have cut me some slack. I know it frustrates you when I won't cut you slack. I'm so scared sometimes that something will happen to you and your brother that I'm afraid if I do cut you slack, you'll repeat whatever mistake made me crack down on you. But you've shown me this week that forgiveness has it's place too. I can't change overnight, Sam. Please just be patient with me, and I'll try to become a little more lenient. I still have to be hard on you guys, but I'll try to soften up a bit._

_It also scares me that you're so forgiving. It worries me that one day your tender heart will get you into trouble and I won't be there to help you. But what you've shown me the last few days is that I should celebrate that spirit, not worry about it. I should be grateful for it, not try to change it. You remind me so much of your mom, Sam. So much that it hurts sometimes. I miss her every single day, but having you is like having a piece of her back. _

_I wasn't intending this to be this long, but I'm glad it is. I never thought I'd actually say this, but I'm glad Dean made me do something like this. I hope it makes a difference. _

_I love you, son. I know I don't say it much, but I do. _

_Love,_

_Dad_

John read the letter over twice and prayed that Dean would accept it. He had poured his broken heart into it, something he hadn't done much at all of since Mary had been alive. Putting a few finishing touches on the report and the letter, John brought it out for Sam and Dean's inspection. A few tense moments later, Sam nodded.

"Exactly right, Dad. Good job."

"Same here, Dad." Dean said, handing the letter over to Sam. "Good job."

John watched as Sam read over the letter. Sam's eyes misted over, and John was grateful he didn't cry. Sam turned those hazel eyes, the ones that looked just Mary and made his heart break every time John saw them.

"You see mom when you look at me?"

"I do, buddy." John said.

"Would she…" Sam choked and had to catch his breath before continuing. "Would she be proud of me too?"

"Yes. She would." John answered honestly. "She was crazy about you. You and your brother. I wish I could show her to you. Show you how amazing she was. But I can't. And it kills me that I can't. I know that going after the thing that killed her wouldn't bring her back, and I know it wouldn't help, but I have to do something. I have to stop it from killing or hurting anyone else if I can help it."

"I know, Dad. I get that." Sam looked down at the letter in his hand. "Dad, can we have a talk? A real, honest one, and you promise you won't get mad and yell at me?"

"Of course we can."

"Don't say that yet, Dad. I really need you to hear me here. I'm not trying to attack you, but every time I try to talk about this, you see it that way. Are you really ready to heart this?"

"I'll hear you, Sam. No yelling, I promise."

Sam sighed. _Here goes nothing_, he thought. "I just wish you'd get this. I can't force myself to love hunting. But just because I don't love hunting doesn't mean that I don't love you and Dean, or even mom. But you and Dean have all these memories of what a life away from hunting can be. I don't know what that's like."

John's nodded. Sam really did have no clue what a normal life was like.

"When I ask you to do stuff like field trips or sleepovers or go fishing or anything like that, it's just me trying to get my taste of what that can be like. I know we can't ever have it permanently, but I just want to have it for a few minutes at a time. I'm sorry if you see that as selfish, but I really don't. You and Dean get to have your own ways to relax between hunts. I want the same. I know I complain about it a lot, but you complain about me wanting more too. I always give you everything I've got, with research, with training, on the actual hunt. I just want you to return the favor once in a while. Let me enjoy myself without making me feel guilty for it."

John was faced with something he'd hardly ever seen before. A reasonable, calm Sam arguing for permission to do 'normal' things. On any other random day of the year, the two of them likely would have ended up yelling and screaming at each other. John wanted to do exactly what he had promised Sam he wouldn't. Lecture, yell, argue with Sam that a normal life wasn't possible, that it was selfish to want and they needed to focus all their energy on helping others. But John didn't do that, and was mighty proud of himself when he didn't.

"Give me time, Sam. Please. Just give me time. Once you've recovered, I'll think about it. I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do right now." When a disappointed Sam looked down at the floor at John's answer, John added, "I promise that if something's safe for you to do, and we're not in the middle of a hunt, I _will_ think about it and not just say no. And I'll try to take longer breaks between hunts so that you have more of an opportunity to do stuff like that. I appreciate you being calm about this. Like I said, I promise I'll try."

"Thanks, Dad." Sam said quietly.

"But, in the meantime, if you want to do things that we can do together, I promise you we'll do that."

"Like what?" Sam asked.

"You mentioned going fishing. I promise we'll start watching movies you want to see, making sure we have dinner together, eating where you want…." John was trying to think of other things Sam had asked to do that he'd said no to, but he couldn't come up with anything else. "Come up with a list if you want. But even if I can't promise you that I'll let you go places with other kids, I can promise you that we'll do more stuff together. As a family. Not just as a hunting team."

Sam smiled. "That actually sounds better than the friends stuff, Dad."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Do we have a deal? You keep doing your best with hunting, I'll start doing my best for us to spend time together? Time not hunting?"

"Deal." Sam said.

"Christo."

John looked to Dean, who hadn't bothered to hide his disbelief at how the two of them were talking and not arguing.

"We're not possessed, you jerk." Sam said, reaching over to Bobby's couch and throwing a pillow to Dean.

"I thought the same thing." Bobby said with a smirk. "Well, buddy, looks like you're almost done."

"Almost? What do you mean?" As if on cue, a phone rang from the kitchen. "Oh, no."

"Yep. Better get it. The CDC doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Yeah, yeah." John said. After hanging up the phone, John was surprised when Sam grabbed his hand. "Hey, Dad? Thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

Sam blushed a little, the thought of what he was about to say slightly embarrassing. "For offering to do everything you did."

John sighed. "Sam, I should have started doing it sooner. I don't want your only memories of me to be me hounding you about training or hunting. I want you to have something good to look back on."

"I do." Sam said.

"You do what?"

"Have something good to look back on."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Our lunch yesterday."

"Yeah, that was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"One more thing." Sam said. "I don't want Dean and Bobby to hear this, so can you come a little closer?"

"Sure." John crept closer and bent down in front of Sam's chair. "What is it?"

"Little closer." Sam said.

"Sam, what…?"

Before he could finish his sentence, John sputtered from the white substance that was shoved into his face. He heard Sam giggling furiously and backing away from him. He heard Dean and Bobby standing in the kitchen entrance laughing just as hard as Sam. When John opened up his eyes and recovered from the shock, he picked up something gray and shiny off the floor. It was a disposable pie pan. John wiped his mouth, and a bit of whatever Sam had thrown at him made it into his mouth. John pulled a face that made everyone laugh even harder. It wasn't whipped cream like he assumed. It was shaving cream.

"Hey, Sam. You're grounded."

All laughter in the room ceased immediately. Sam had a look of _I knew this was way too good to be true_ on his face, and Dean and Bobby were both shaking their heads. None of them were looking at John, and John took advantage of that fact by walking to the sink and pulling out the hose there.

"Unless, of course, I can get you back."

Before Sam could respond, he was blocking his face from a steady stream of water, causing Dean and Bobby to burst into laughs again. John turned the sprayer on them, and soon enough, the three of them were wrestling for control of it. A soaked and sticky John finally took the hose and put it back on the sink where it belonged.

"Come on, boys. Let's get ready for dinner."

"Yes, sir." Sam and Dean responded together.

"Dad, can I pick dinner for tonight?" Sam asked.

"Depends on what you'd pick."

"I got the stuff for salad when Bobby and I went to get groceries today." Sam said. "There's enough for everyone."

Dean pulled a face and started to object, but John cut him off. "We can do the salad, yes. But we have to add some protein too. You make the salad, I'll reheat the barbeque chicken. Everyone has a little salad, everyone has a little chicken. Deal?"

"Deal." Sam said. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, son. Go on, go change and we'll work on dinner together." As Sam left the kitchen, John thought to himself _I think I did good this time, Mary._


End file.
